


Peace On Earth (Ponds and Time Lord Reconciled)

by leiascully



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-24
Updated: 2011-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-28 04:39:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amy waits for the knock at the door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peace On Earth (Ponds and Time Lord Reconciled)

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: Post-S6  
> Concrit: Welcome  
> A/N: The long-promised Ponds Family Christmas story. Happy holidays. Title is cribbed and modified from "Hark, The Herald Angels Sing". A little something to read while we wait for Yuletide to open, eh?  
> Disclaimer: _Doctor Who_ and all related characters are the property of Russell T. Davies, Stephen Moffat, and BBC. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

Amy waits for the knock at the door. "Can't come up for Christmas," she'd told her mother. "Sorry, sorry, work emergency, plus Rory pulled the Christmas shift." Which is true, after a fashion, but very nearly not. Donna would handle any work emergency more than competently on her own, and Rory only worked Christmas Eve, and now he's snoring away upstairs while Amy waits. She knows they'll come, River and the Doctor. It's Christmas. Even the Doctor wouldn't dare miss that. For a start, River would probably kill him. As it is, the waiting is killing Amy. She fidgets, rearranging Rory's knitting and shuffling all the presents around under the tree. It's getting later and later, but they'll come. She knows they'll come.

She nearly drops a whole pan of gingerbread when she hears the familiar squeal of the TARDIS in the back garden. "Rory!" she calls. He stumbles out of their bedroom, his hair mussed and his eyes only half-open, wearing pajama bottoms, the top of some scrubs, and one arm of his dressing gown. He awkwardly yanks the rest of it on as he clatters down the stairs in bare feet.

"Is it Christmas?"

She reaches up to cup her hand around the back of his head and kiss him. "It's Christmas."

"Finally," he yawns.

There's a thump at the back door and Amy leaps to open it. The Doctor nearly falls in, his arms full of bags and boxes. River breezes in behind him, equally laden down, but handling it much better.

"I told you," she's saying as they maneuver their way to the living room to deposit their gifts underneath the tree, "if you'd pulled the wibbly lever, we would have been here on time."

"We're in plenty of time!" the Doctor protests. "We've got oodles of time! It's only barely time for Christmas dinner!"

"Most of which, fortunately, came from the shop," Amy says. "But I have gotten quite good at gingerbread."

"Pond!" the Doctor exclaims, as if he's only just noticed she's there. "Permission to hug?"

"Granted," Rory says, helping River with the gifts.

The Doctor sweeps Amy up in one of his enthusiastic, ridiculous hugs and takes a deep whiff of her hair. "Pond, you smell exquisite."

She laughs. "Petrichor. It is my signature fragrance and all."

"My clever mother," River says affectionately. She stands up and gives Rory a hand up.

"Yes, very clever," the Doctor says, letting Amy go and stepping back. "And very smelly. In a good way, I mean, not a bad smell. Rory, Rory, Rory." He flings his arms around Rory, who pats him on the back. "How's the world of nursing? Dull business, I can only imagine, all those sick people and hardly any running."

"Somehow I don't mind that too much," Rory says dryly. "Anyway, are you two hungry? We have got piles of food in the kitchen."

"Oooh, yes," the Doctor says, rubbing his hands together. "When was the last time we ate, River?"

"Ages ago," she muses. "On the other hand, I did pick up a lovely bottle of wine somewhere along the way." She rummages through the presents until she comes up with a bottle, rubbing the dust from the label. "There we are. Excellent vintage from the thirty-second century. I had to wrestle three bishops for that one."

"You did, didn't you?" the Doctor asks, looking at her with rather gooey eyes. "Quite clever of you."

River tosses her hair back and grins. "Thank you, sweetie, but I think Mummy and Daddy will be vexed if you put off dinner any longer, even if this is really important flirting."

"It is a bit weird," Rory admits. River laughs and Rory smiles at her. "Then again, it's all a bit weird, this family, so what do I know."

"What family isn't?" Amy says philosophically, gazing around at her husband, her daughter, and her son-in-law as they sit down at the table. "Open the wine and let's eat."

River's wine is excellent and so is the food. Even the Doctor tucks in enthusiastically, though he does tend to pour custard on everything. There's pudding, expertly flamed by Amy, and mince pies. They pull Christmas crackers; the Doctor tries to take all of the paper hats, but each of them refuses and wears their own.

"You all look very cool," the Doctor informs them. "Excellent hats. Especially mine, don't you think. It suits me extremely well. Very cool."

River pats his hand. "Sweetie, if it were a fez, it would be in the fireplace already."

The Doctor pouts and builds a TARDIS out of gingerbread with a gumdrop for the light on top. River plays a little song on the whistle out of her Christmas cracker. They all lie around the living room, the three humans sharing out the rest of the wine and opening a second bottle. The Doctor sit in a chair by himself while River and Rory share the couch and Amy sits on the floor halfway between the tree and the Doctor. Rory puts on a CD of Christmas carols that plays quietly in the background and the fire crackles.

"This is lovely," River says. "Amy, Rory, thank you for letting us come to Christmas dinner."

"Strange as it is, you're our daughter," Rory says, putting his arm around River's shoulders. "Of course you're welcome to Christmas dinner. You can come every year if you like, save us from the rest of the family."

"Our first family Christmas," Amy says with satisfaction, taking a photo with her phone.

"Not exactly," River says. "We did a bit of Christmas before, back when I was Mels."

"Yes, but we didn't _know_ then," Amy says practically. "So it doesn't count."

"Fair enough," River says. She leans her head on Rory's shoulder briefly before they both sit up.

"Presents," Amy says decisively. She kneels by the tree, handing things around. Rory opens his carefully, folding all the wrappings away; the Doctor rips everything open so cheerfully that the room is covered in shreds of bright paper; Amy and River take a middle road, creating nests of torn tissue around themselves.

"Amelia Pond, you are a treasure," the Doctor says, pulling on a furry hat with ear flaps and beaming at all of them.

"Here," Rory says, passing him a box. "This one's from me."

The Doctor destroys the box ripping it open and holds up a wizard's hat covered in glittery stars. He perches it on top of his furry hat with an air of delight. "Rory!"

"Happy Christmas," Rory says with a smile.

"Oh, dear," River says, but she doesn't look terribly unhappy.

The rest of the gifts are rather less frivolous; Rory has a new coat and Amy has new boots with extra buckles and there are bits and bobs for the house and strange things from other planets that Amy will have to have River explain later and a collection of movies and television that makes the Doctor exclaim, "But how will you ever _watch_ all of this? You haven't got a time machine of your own!" They all laugh at him for that one. River has a new coat as well, and a ring that was Amy's grandmother's, once upon a time, and a new holster from the Doctor, who gives a little shrug.

"As long as you're going to carry them, you might as well carry them in style," he says.

River gives him a soft look and a small package which the Doctor shakes, holding it up next to his ear.

"Is this what I think it is?" he asks.

"Open it and see," River tells him.

He rips open a corner of the paper and peers inside it and then looks up at her with a grin. "I'll put this aside for now."

"That might be for the best," River says. "In this time zone, anyway."

Rory yawns so wide that Amy thinks for a moment that his face will split in two. "Sorry, everybody. Long night last night."

"Christmas Eve often is, with the waiting," the Doctor says absently. "Can't stand it myself, waiting."

"I was working," Rory corrects him.

"Even worse," the Doctor says. "Christmas in a hospital - that's an eternity."

"You should go to bed," River tells him. "And you too, Amy. We aren't going anywhere."

"No," the Doctor agrees. "We'll just be here, looking at the pretty lights, enjoying the fireside on this lovely night of peace and joy et cetera. It's possible we may watch some of your television."

"Well, you're welcome to it," Rory says, pushing himself up with an effort. "I think I will be going to bed. Amy?"

"I'll be up in a moment," Amy says. "Just want to keep it Christmas a little longer."

"We could play cards," the Doctor offers. "Oooh, or I could do card tricks. I picked up a few when we were in the Xanadu nebulon - there's an excellent one involving a half dozen eggs and a hatbox."

"On second thought, I might join you," Amy says to Rory. He holds out his arm and she gets up and moves into his embrace.

"You're under the mistletoe, Mummy dearest," River points out.

Rory looks up. "So we are." He leans down to give her a kiss.

"Always with the kissing," the Doctor remarks. "But I suppose I understand a bit better now."

"I'd hope you do at that," River says, patting the cushion next to her. The Doctor moves from his chair to sprawl over the sofa, one arm casually along the back, very nearly around River's shoulders. They all pretend not to see the way his knee presses against River's, casual and loving.

"We'll see you in the morning?" Amy asks.

"We'll be right here," River promises. "Or possibly in the kitchen - don't look that way, he actually does a good breakfast when he wants to."

"If you get tired, there's a guest room," Rory says, gesturing vaguely.

"Thank you," River says quietly. "For everything."

"You're our daughter," Rory tells her. "Whenever. However timey-wimey. We don't need thanking."

"Good night," River says, her eyes shining. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry, happy, all of that," the Doctor says, holding a handheld gaming device the wrong way up entirely. The last thing Amy sees as she goes up the stairs is River tenderly taking it from him, the two of them with their heads bent close, murmuring and gazing at the lights on the tree. She smiles to herself and squeezes Rory's hand as they climb the last few stairs. He stops one step above her and kisses the top of her head.

"Merry Christmas, Amy."

"Merry Christmas, Rory," she says, leaning against him, and they sway their way to bed.


End file.
